Faces From The Past
by SunshineSweetie
Summary: Jess is living with Rob, and the FBI have left her alone. Life is good. But what happens when an old face from the past turns up and turns Jess's world upside down- and Rob disappears.
1. Chapter 1

**One**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own 1-800-where-r-u, nor do I own Jessica, Rob, Ruth or basically any of Meg Cabot's characters. Some characters however, are mine, and some more will be in future chapters =)**

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Well. I should of known, I suppose. No fairytale happy ending for Jess Mastriani. That's my name- you've probably heard it before. That's because I'm Lightning Girl. A few years ago, I got hit by lightning and ended up with these special powers which enabled me to find missing kids and-... Why am I even writing this down? I don't have to. I guess it's just become a habit. I've written nearly all of what's happened to me in the last four years down, I guess, becuase I couldn't trust the Feds to do it. I mean, I was the one who was really there. I was the one who experienced everything. I was the one who suffered. They just followed me around, usually without me knowing, bugging my phone and harrassing my family. So yeah, I couldn't exactly trust them to get the facts straight.

But whatever. I mean, I really could kick myself for thinking that because everything was going along smoothly, it was going to stay that way. It was stupid of me to think that. Because of course, it wasn't. I mean, lets look back on the past four years of my life. I accidentally rescued a kid who didn't actually want to be rescued, got made to stay at Crane Military Base against my will while they did tests on me, had to bust out of there to go help the kid I messed up with, ended up blowing up a police helicopter in the process, saved a kid deep in a cave while literally at the same time trying to stop a sycho from murdering me....Then there was the quaterback, from my very own high school, that I helped bring to justice for killing a cheerleader, beating another one up, and kidnapping another girl. Oh yeah, and it was also my fault the main family restaurant got torched. And my brother Douglas's mental problems worsened because of the press following me around. Oh and don't forget the racist militia group I helped put in jail. And then I went to Afghanistan to help catch terrorists, and then just two years ago I busted up an underage teen runaway porn ring which included my fiancees little sister. So yeah. The past four years have just been a bowl of cherries for me. Naturally.

Don't get me wrong though. It hasn't been all bad. During those rough four years, I managed to spend quite a lot of time with Rob Wilkins, the guy who wouldn't go out with me due to the fact I was sixteen, and he was eighteen and on probation. Only for swimming in a public pool after hours. But still, since I was two years younger than him, still at highschool, and under the legal age of consent, he considered me jailbait. But breathing in the scent of his Coast washing detergent, while holding on to him as we sped down the highway on his Indian...that's one of my fondest memories. Though we were, of course, on our way to rescue a kid at the time.

He helped me out a lot, Rob, when it came to the kid rescuing thing. Two years ago, he proposed. Well, actually I asked him. But whatever. It was maybe not the most ladylike thing to do, but as everyone is fond of telling me, I don't really act like a lady too much. Well, I guess I do a little more than I did a few years ago. My brown hair, which was cut shorter than Rob's, is now a little longer. And as well as wearing my Cherry Chapstick, I also occassionally swipe on some mascara. I'm still pretty much a tomboy though. But anyway. A date for the wedding hasn't been set yet. We're kind of just enjoying a long engagment, after all the stuff we've been through it's nice to take a break. It's good having more time to plan it too, I guess. Ruth - my best friend- has been going crazy, trying to make me look at big white wedding dresses and sparkly veils and stuff. They're nothing like what I'll probably end up wearing on the day. She knows that but she won't give up trying to make me get one. But then that's just Ruth...

It was as I was sitting, thinking about all this, that the doorbell rang. I got up to open the door. And when I did, I couldn't of been more suprised.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

"Hello Jessica" said Cyrus Krantz, with a nod.

"Oh. Hey Dr Krantz". I said, surprised.

"I was hoping, that you might be able to tell me about Jack Hesketh" said Dr. Krantz, staring down at me. I don't get to stare down at people, they always look down on me, on account of the fact that just about everybody is taller than me.

"Jack Hesketh?" I said innocently, cocking my head on one side.

"Jessica." said Dr Krantz, tiredly. He was wearing a dark blue checked shirt, which he had tucked into stiff sand colored cargo's. On his feet were open toed sandals. He was wearing them with _socks_. 100% geek chic. "He went missing two years ago, and, after a tip off to 1800 where r u, he turned up in Bridgeport, Alabama, just last week. It would make both of our lives a whole lot easier if you'd just tell everyone the truth. I know you have your gift but unless you tell the FBI formally then you can't help- "

"Truth?" I asked him sweetly.

"Jessica, please - don't play 're a bright girl. I know you still have your gift. Only myself, and a few select members of the FBI know. If you start working for us, it won't be like last time, there won't be any press following-."

"Look Dr Krantz, I have a wedding to plan. Could we do this another time? For one thing, I really have no idea what your talking about."

This was an out and out lie, of course. The last time we had met, Dr Krantz had worked it out for himself that I'd gotten it back- my gift I mean- but hadn't pushed me to come and work for the FBI like he had been trying to. He'd said if I ever felt like it, then I could, but he wouldn't make me. So why was he round at my house quizzing me on some kid I'd found? What'd changed?

"Jessica-" He began, sounding like he'd done that thing, where you count to ten to relieve your frustration. It didn't seem to have worked. "Jessica, you need to understand that you have a gift, and you could be using it to help a lot of people-"

"Hold on a minute." I said, putting my hand up as a stop signal. "What gives? You've left me alone for the past two years. You said it was my choice to come and work for you. You said you wouldn't push me. So. Like I said. What gives?"

Dr Krantz looked rather taken aback. He started to say something about how the amount of missing kids has worsened since I 'retired', but I cut him off.

"This really isn't about finding more missing kids is it Dr Krantz?" I said flatly.

He looked sheepish.

"Well....no, actually, it isn't."

"Just come on out and say whatever war mission you need me for now. Like I don't still have the scars from last time" I said bitterly.

"Actually" he said, looking surprised. "This has nothing to do with the war Jessica."

I was stunned for a moment. I'd been sure he was here to ask me to go and find more terrorists, like I did three years ago. I saw things no person should ever have to see. And then came the night terrors....

"It's not?" I asked, trying not to sound confused. "Then what is it about?"

Dr Krantz dug in his pocket and brought out an envelope. He slid his finger under the sealed flap and carefully unstuck it.

"This" he said, pulling out an A4 sheet of photo paper. "Is your...'mission' ". He turned the paper around to face me so I found myself staring at a glossy photograph of a man. He was sat in a chair, wearing an expensive looking charcoal gray suit, and a striped tie. He looked around late thirties-early forties. His hair was light brown, going gray a little at the temples. He had very blue eyes, and was wearing a stiff smile, like he wasn't used to smiling a lot. He looked a little familiar, but I couldn't quite place him.

I looked up at Dr Krantz.

"Am I supposed to know who this is or something?" I said tonelessly.

"No." he said, shaking his head. "Jessica. This man is Marcus Lawson."

"And..." I said, raising an eyebrow. Look, I know I sounded like a bitch, but it had been two years. I'd thought the Feds had finally left me alone. Now here one, one I'd TRUSTED, showing me a random picture of some guy I'd never met.

"He's a highly senior search design manager of the Federal Beaureu of Investigation. In other words, the FBI."

"And why are you showing his photo to me?" I asked, still not getting it.

"Well, three weeks ago, Mr Lawson disappeared. His car is still in the driveway, his phone and pager were found on his desk, and no money has been withdrawn from his bank account. Jessica. We were hoping, maybe, that you could-"

Suddenly, I twigged what was going on.


End file.
